


Keep Your Hands On Me

by LathboraViran



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dares/bets, If You Squint - Freeform, Jimterruption, M/M, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Praise Kink, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Tension, Sort Of, Teacher/Student Roleplay, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved Cullen, Touch-Starved Solas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2020-07-25 00:21:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20023441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LathboraViran/pseuds/LathboraViran
Summary: Cullen is bad at card games, and Varric doesn't always play for coin. The cost of a lost game of Diamondback? Cullen has to kiss Solas. It goes both better and worse than he had expected.





	1. It's Only a Kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [too many legs under the table](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5068225) by [clandestineClairvoyant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clandestineClairvoyant/pseuds/clandestineClairvoyant). 



Solas’s focus was locked onto their chess game when Cullen said quietly, “Varric beat me at Diamondback the other day.”

“Surely that’s not so embarrassing as to require whispering,” Solas said, nonetheless matching Cullen’s _sotto voce_.

“It’s not the loss per se that… requires discretion. You are aware that Varric sometimes doesn’t play for coin?”

“Mm. Yes.” Solas moved a rook.

“Well, this time we played for a dare. Of course, the dare is only determined after the game. He, ah…” Cullen was looking at the ground three feet away from their table and rubbing the back of his neck, Solas saw as he finally looked away from the chessboard.

“What did he put you up to?” Solas prompted gently.

“Well, it’s… He…” Cullen stammered, never looking up. “Perhaps I should just tell him I’ve done it.”

“It does not take as perceptive a person as Varric to know when you are lying,” Solas pointed out. “Perhaps you should ask for a different task.”

Cullen groaned. “He’d come up with something even more… uncomfortable, I’m sure.”

“True enough. What is the dare?”

“It’s… I have to… kiss you,” Cullen said finally, the pink blush on his cheeks deepening to red.

“Ah. I don’t suppose he told you why he chose me?” Solas said, unaffected.

“Something about getting you back for the game of Diamondback you won against him.” Cullen finally looked back at the chessboard and moved a pawn distractedly.

“Of course.”

A brief silence fell as Solas considered whether Cullen’s unexpectedly poor move should alter his own strategy in any way. It occurred to him, as he moved a knight, that the silence probably felt quite uncomfortable for the Commander.

Solas looked up. “I take it you wish to keep this as discreet as possible. Perhaps you might come to my quarters this evening.”

Cullen choked, apparently on the air he was breathing. “Your quarters? You don’t have a problem with this?”

Solas chuckled. “It’s only a kiss. I imagine we should be grateful Master Tethras didn’t choose something more inventive.”

Cullen’s blush had begun to fade, but it came back in earnest at that. Solas was privately amused by the Commander’s abashment, and pleased by the resulting poor chess play Cullen made.

“Anyway, I’m not sure going to your quarters qualifies as discreet.”

“There is little chance of being interrupted there, unlike your own,” Solas pointed out.

“Still, someone might see me coming or going,” Cullen countered.

“Perhaps there could be a legitimate reason for a brief visit. I have been working on a rather sensitive report on blood magic among the Venatori. The Inquisitor has explicitly asked that I not trust it to the hands of a messenger. I should be able to finish it by this evening.” He hadn’t committed anything sensitive to paper yet, but it was only late morning and the research was done. He could reasonably complete the report this afternoon. He moved his queen.

“Very well,” Cullen replied. After a pause, he added, “You don’t seem at all bothered by this.”

“I am not exactly a blushing virgin,” Solas said, trying and failing not to smirk. 

“I am not -” Cullen protested, then apparently noticed the look on Solas’s face. “That was uncalled for.” He turned his attention back to the game and took one of Solas’s bishops.

“I apologize then. The point remains that I have experienced enough kisses in my life under enough varied circumstances to be unabashed in such situations. I only feel sorry that Varric is taking advantage of your more easily embarrassed nature.” Solas moved his remaining bishop. “Check.”

“I, ah, appreciate your sympathy,” Cullen said, moving a knight.

Solas countered. “Checkmate.”

Cullen sighed and sat back. “I knew I’d lose today, bringing this up. Even Dorian can best me when I’m distracted, and he’s terrible.”

“I’m sure you’ll make a better showing at our next match. But that will need to be another day. I have a report to finish, after all.”

They stored the chess pieces in the wooden box attached to the side of the table, then left the garden together. It was their usual custom, since Cullen’s quickest route back to his office was through Solas’s study, but today the walk was uncomfortably quiet. Solas had already begun thinking about the report and how to organize his findings.

On entering the rotunda, Cullen asked - just loudly enough for the resident gossip on the second floor to hear: “What time do you suppose your report will be complete?”

“No later than half past seven, I imagine,” Solas replied, already shuffling through the mess on his desk for some clean parchment.

“I’ll pick it up from you then.” Cullen said, then walked out the side door without further comment.

~~~

Solas prided himself on his ability to remain focused on what was important and relevant. As a result, he found it thoroughly frustrating when his mind strayed to his upcoming rendezvous with Cullen numerous times over the course of the afternoon.

It had been too long since he had shared any form of physical intimacy with another person. He had grown somewhat infatuated with Inquisitor Lavellan in the weeks and months after joining the Inquisition, but thankfully Lavellan only had eyes for Josephine. He wasn’t sure he could have resisted her advances, and he desperately needed to remain focused on his mission.

But a one-time encounter with no expectations of romance or a life together? With someone he’d never once considered in a romantic light? It was a surprisingly attractive proposition. 

He found himself thinking of Cullen’s lips, always a bit chapped from the chill mountain winds - when had he observed that? - and the scar that ran through them. Would he be as tentative and shy as he’d been in the garden? Or would he press Solas against a wall, hands on his waist, for a fierce and possessive kiss worthy of the so-called Lion of Ferelden? 

Solas shook his head. Cullen - the Commander, he corrected himself - was human, millennia younger and more innocent than himself. These modern peoples were not mere animals as he had first thought, but they still lacked so much of the spiritual and emotional fullness of his own people. He would forever be on unequal footing with them. It was taking advantage.

Well, this had not been his idea. If anyone was taking advantage, it was Master Tethras. He would assist Cullen in fulfilling the terms of the dare, and that would be the end of it. There would be no harm done if he happened to enjoy his part in satisfying Master Tethras’s requirements.

Still, he was looking forward to sharing a bit of physical intimacy - he stopped himself there. Not intimacy. Physical affection? No. Physical _contact_. He was looking forward to sharing a bit of physical contact for the first time since he’d gone into uthenera.

That put rather a lot of weight on it, he thought. Better not to think of it at all. Solas forced himself to concentrate on summing up his research into the Venatori’s use of blood magic.

~~~

Solas finished the report before dinner, which he took in his quarters. He had taken his dishes back to the kitchen and returned to his chamber before the clock struck seven. He tried to immerse himself in yet another book of poor scholarship on the Veil, but it didn’t hold his interest. 

He found himself sitting by the fireplace with a glass of wine, meditatively staring into the flames. For the most part, he kept his mind blank. Thoughts flitted in - Cullen’s blond curls, or the charming smile Solas had never paid particular attention to before - but he acknowledged them and then ushered them out of his mind. He might not be able to stop them from arising, but there was no need to dwell on them.

There was a firm knock at the door, and Solas calmly strode over to open it. If his pulse was a bit faster than normal, it must be due to the abrupt shift from resting to walking, not from any sense of anticipation.

He opened the door. As expected, Commander Cullen stood there, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

“You must be here for the report. Would you mind stepping in for a moment? There were a few things I wanted to draw your particular attention to,” Solas said. It didn’t hurt to maintain the cover story, if only for the sake of the Commander’s pride.

“Ah, yes. Thank you,” Cullen said, and stepped into the room and a few paces past his host. Solas closed the door behind him.

Cullen’s hand didn’t leave the back of his neck, and his gaze seemed firmly affixed to the floor.

“Commander,” Solas said gently, “This needn’t be a production. I’m sure you’d prefer if we simply have done with it. Of course, we don’t need to do anything you’d rather not. I can tell Varric it’s done. And I can be a convincing liar.”

Cullen sighed. “He’d still ask me about it, and he’d know I was lying. Best to have done with it, as you said.” He was still rubbing his neck. Solas felt a bit sorry for him, and a bit amused at the same time. He was fairly sure his face showed neither, not that it mattered with Cullen’s gaze still averted.

Solas stepped forward, closing some of the space between them, and tentatively placed a hand on Cullen’s cheek. “Would you like to follow my lead? Or would you rather have control?” He meant to simply make Cullen as comfortable with the situation as possible, but as soon as the words left his mouth, they felt too intimate, too suggestive.

Cullen’s back was to the fireplace, so his face was largely in shadow, but his blushing was still visible. “Please, take the lead,” he said, and blushed darker. “I’ve, ah, never kissed a man before.”

Solas smiled gently. “You’ll find it’s not much different from kissing a woman.” He took one more step forward, then took Cullen’s hand from his neck and placed it on his own waist. “Military leaders should not allow their nervous habits to show in public.”

“We’re not in public,” Cullen protested.

“You were already doing that outside my door, and in the garden as well.”

Solas took Cullen’s face in both hands, his palms prickling from Cullen’s stubble and from anticipation. Then he leaned up and kissed Cullen gently, mouth closed, began to pull away after only the briefest moment - 

And then Cullen’s other hand went ‘round his waist as well, and Cullen was chasing the kiss, mouth falling open, tongue pressing against Solas’s lips. _Fenedhis_ , Solas thought, and parted his lips anyway, darted his tongue out to meet Cullen’s. 

It was clumsy, and wet, and suddenly heated, and Solas drank in every moment of it. He’d missed this, sharing touch, contact with another person. He slipped a hand down to Cullen’s neck and caressed his thumb along the jaw. Cullen made a soft, pleased noise in response, then abruptly pulled away.

“I - I didn’t mean to get carried away,” he said quickly, “It’s just - Varric said ‘It doesn’t count if there’s no tongue.’” He laughed nervously. 

Solas chuckled. “I am not surprised.”

They stood there for a long moment, face to face, though Cullen was looking at the floor again, holding one elbow in the opposite hand and looking like an innocent schoolboy blushing off a first kiss. Solas wanted to kiss him again, to touch his hands, to wrap a hand through his hair, to - he shook his head and took half a step back. “The report, then.”

“Oh. Yes.” Was that disappointment in Cullen’s voice? Or merely distraction? Why did he want it to be disappointment?

Solas turned and walked over to the desk. Cullen’s footsteps followed. Report in hand, Solas turned around to find Cullen standing closer than he’d expected. He met the Commander’s eyes. Surely that was not desire he saw there? He felt a flutter of anticipation in his stomach - apparently those didn’t go away with age, he thought, and dismissed the thought as foolish.

Cullen put a tentative hand to Solas’s face, and Solas barely stopped himself from nuzzling into the delicious warmth of it. 

“If you’re looking for permission,” Solas said, “you have it.”

Cullen kissed him again, hungrily, teeth grasping at Solas’s lower lip. _Perhaps he too has been too long without -_ Solas thought, before he was distracted by Cullen breaking the kiss to mouth at Solas’s throat.

He threaded one hand through Cullen’s hair, the other hand reaching back awkwardly to put the report back on the desk before coming back to rest on Cullen’s hip.

“Mmn,” said Cullen into Solas’s neck.

“You like me touching you,” Solas said in a low voice. He knew he shouldn’t say more, but Cullen’s mouth was still at his throat, licking and sucking, and he needed this. “Is it my long, slender fingers? Or do you simply need to be touched?”

Cullen whimpered, and Solas felt his own half-hard cock stiffen at the sound. Then Cullen’s lips were back on his, firm and open. The hesitation was gone, leaving only hunger in its wake. 

Solas was awash in sensations: Cullen’s thick curls between his fingers; his leather-clad hip under his other hand; the hard iron of Cullen’s breastplate pressed to his chest; the mingled smells of musk and metal; Cullen’s hands, large and warm, one now pressed flat against his back and the other resting at his hip; and the kiss, all tongues and teeth, wet and wanting.

He finally broke the kiss and pulled away. Cullen’s eyes still shone with desire.

“We’ve taken this rather further than was required,” Solas said.

“I apologize,” Cullen said, his hand immediately going to the back of his neck. “I seem to have forgotten myself.”

“If anyone owes an apology, it is I. I fear I have taken advantage of your predicament,” replied Solas.

“No - I - that is…” Cullen was looking down and away again now.

Solas gently took Cullen’s hand from the back of his neck and did not let go. “You must break that habit,” he chided, “including the tendency to bore holes in the floor with your gaze.”

Cullen looked up at Solas then. There was still desire in his eyes, but now there seemed to be fear as well. 

“We have both been soldiers,” Solas said. “We have both known what it was like to have companionship and casual contact, and then to lose that easy connection. It is natural enough to need touch, physical contact. Perhaps that is what led both of us to become… carried away.”

“Yes, I suppose that must be it,” said Cullen, looking a bit relieved.

“The report, then,” Solas said, turning around to fetch it from the table. He turned back, and Cullen took the report in both hands.

“Ah.” Cullen cleared his throat. “Thank you for the report. And for helping me get Varric off my back. I’ll just… be going then.”

Solas nodded. “Of course. Have a good evening.”

“And you,” Cullen said, turning around to walk to the door. Solas turned back to the fire until he heard the door shut. Then he sat on his bed, unlaced his trousers, and reached for the oil he kept in his bedside table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, I'm expecting to write probably one or two more chapters for this. I've rated it E for "i Expect to add smut."


	2. Awkwardness Got the Better of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dare is done, and that should be that. But Cullen can't keep his mind off Solas, and their next chess match just goes to show how much has changed between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't intend for this fic to switch POVs, but Solas was being uncooperative. Switching POVs seems to have gotten me through the block. You can read [the Solas version of the chapter on Tumblr](https://lathboraxviran.tumblr.com/post/186949232162/outtake-from-keep-your-hands-on-me), if you really need to get more Solas/Cullen in your life.
> 
> I also didn't intend for this to suddenly feel like a slowburn after the passionate kissing in chapter 1, but Cullen refuses to be impulsive, so have some pining instead.

Cullen couldn’t get his mind off the kiss. Kisses. (How had it become more than one?) 

It kept him from falling asleep that night. It distracted him as he dressed the next morning. It interrupted his work time and again, and the pile of papers on his desk disappeared even more slowly than usual. The Inquisitor came by to discuss something - an hour later he no longer remembered what - and throughout their conversation, his mind kept drifting back to Solas.

Solas’s lips, supple, parting under his. Solas’s hands, surprisingly soft, unsurprisingly gentle, on his neck and in his hair. Solas’s eyes by firelight, gray with just a suggestion of dusky purple, their expression reserved and searching.

And Solas’s voice. He’d privately been enjoying the sound of Solas’s voice over their chess matches; he’d thought it a purely aesthetic appreciation for the smooth, low timbre of it. But to hear that voice gone slow and sultry, speaking sensual nonsense - the memory of it had him half-stiff despite reports that mentioned utterly unsexy things like ichor and casualties of the battle at Adamant.

In the afternoon, he had a meeting scheduled in the war room. He realized as he pulled together the documents he needed that his usual route to the war room was through Solas’s study in the rotunda. _Perhaps I could go through the courtyard today?_ But then a bell sounded - he was already late, and the rotunda was the quickest route. He swallowed nervously and left his office.

When Cullen entered the rotunda, Solas was seated at his desk, reading a book and taking notes.

“Good afternoon, Commander,” Solas said, as even and unaffected as if nothing had happened between them the previous day. Perhaps to him nothing of interest _had_ happened. The disappointment he felt at that thought brought a certain clarity to the situation. He’d become infatuated. With a wandering apostate who seemed to think demons would make good house pets. He felt his face heat.

He nodded curtly toward the mage, then quickly turned his face away and hurried out into the great hall. 

And nearly walked straight into Varric, who stood facing the rotunda door with his arms crossed.

“Hey, Curly. Heard Solas saying hello to you, and you are not weaseling your way past me on account of some big important meeting. Did you kiss him?”

“This is not a conversation for the great hall,” Cullen hissed. His face must be beet red by now.

“Hey, I didn’t say who!” Varric protested.

“That doesn’t matter. Now, I really do have a meeting, and I am already late. We can discuss this at another time.” Cullen pushed past Varric and all but ran the length of the great hall.

As he opened the door into Josephine’s office, he realized he’d left his documents for the meeting on his desk. He was arriving late, half out of breath, still blushing, and without his reports. There was going to be no living with Josephine and Leliana.

~~~

Cullen returned to his office by way of the kitchens to avoid being cornered by Varric. He thanked the Maker that their paths did not cross the rest of the day.

Late that evening, Cullen made his way to Varric’s quarters, praying silently to Andraste that the dwarf would actually be there and not at the Herald’s Rest.

He knocked at the door. By some miracle, Varric’s voice called from within, “Door’s open!”

Cullen opened the door cautiously, half expecting to discover something untoward, but Varric was just sitting by the fireplace with a book.

“Curly! Have you paid up yet?” Varric said as Cullen closed the door behind him.

“Yes, it’s done.” Cullen could feel a bit of warmth in his cheeks and hoped it wasn’t visible yet.

“You make it sound like an assassin’s hit,” Varric said, chuckling. He reached for a quill and parchment from a nearby side table. “I’m gonna need some details so I know you really did it. I haven’t heard any interesting rumors. Well, I have, but not about you and Chuckles.”

For what must have been the dozenth time in two days, Cullen could feel his face go as red as Varric’s shirt. “Details were not part of the dare. Ask Solas if you need confirmation.”

“I’m asking you if Chuckles is a good kisser. I can’t ask _him_ that.”

Cullen wanted to bury his face in his hands. Or in the ground. “You can’t possibly think you’ll get an answer to that. Good night, Varric,” he said, with as much tone of command in his voice as he could muster. Then he turned to walk out of the room.

As he stepped out the door, Varric said, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

A certain kind of man would have a witty rebuttal. Another sort of man would rebut with a rude gesture. Cullen just squared his shoulders and walked away, successfully resisting the urge to rub the back of his neck. 

One didn’t win verbal repartees against Varric Tethras, but Cullen felt he’d walked away relatively unscathed. As long as he didn’t pass anyone who might wonder why he was blushing.

~~~

He refused to avoid the rotunda. Every time he walked through, he blushed crimson and knew he’d stumble over his words if he dared try to speak, but changing his habits would be letting Varric win. (What Varric would be winning he wasn’t sure.) Moreover, changing his routes through Skyhold would be admitting - to himself, anyway - that something had changed between him and Solas. 

He wasn’t ready to admit that.

Still, he didn’t trust himself to speak to Solas, even so much as a greeting, without stammering. He settled for polite nods - they had been on polite-nod terms for months after Solas joined the Inquisition anyway; it was only a return to an old familiar pattern. 

So it went for nearly a week, and the time of their usual weekly chess match was approaching quickly. Cullen wasn’t sure he would go. Cancelling the match would be no different than avoiding the rotunda - an admission of his infatuation. 

But if he kept the match, he would inevitably admit the same thing by way of blushing and stammering and rubbing his neck. And each time he followed that train of thought, he recalled Solas all but commanding him to stop rubbing his neck, and the memory of that exhortation made his breath catch. It was absurd.

Cullen dithered until it would be rude to back out, his indecision making a decision for him. So it was he found himself in the garden ten minutes before their usual time, slowly setting up the board and trying to occupy his own attention by placing each piece exactly at the center of its square.

His focus on centering each piece prevented him from noticing Solas as he walked up, so when Solas said “Good afternoon, Commander,” Cullen was startled into dropping the rook he was placing. It rolled off the table.

Cullen leaned out of his chair to reach for it, but Solas was already reaching for it as well. Their hands brushed as Solas grasped the rook and Cullen nearly grabbed his hand. Cullen’s breath caught at the touch, and it suddenly felt like his heart was beating directly in his ears. “I apologize,” he managed to say after a moment.

“I’m glad to see you have not lost the power of speech,” Solas said, then paused and began again. “I apologize. I should not make light of your discomfort.”

Cullen shook his head mutely for a moment before finding words. “N-no. I can hardly blame you for being - ah - frustrated with my - ah - silence. I…" He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. He wanted to explain himself, but how could he? _I'm suddenly obsessed with you and, as you can see, cannot speak fluently in your presence?_

“Your awkwardness got the better of you,” Solas offered. Cullen sighed. He hoped it came off as frustration with himself, but truly it was relief that Solas had found a non-incriminating way to explain it.

“Yes,” Cullen replied. “I apologize.”

“Apology accepted.”

They played a couple turns in silence. Cullen snuck a glance up at Solas, who was frowning in concentration. His eyes lingered for a long moment on Solas’s downturned lips before he forced himself to look back at the chessboard. The damage was done, though, as he found himself remembering, for the hundredth time this week, the press of those lips against his.

“Perhaps you can help me understand,” Solas said finally, “how a person can be so confident in leadership and battle, and yet so unsure of himself in matters of sexuality.”

“I may never have led the Templars into war, but I did lead them. And the Order sees that its leaders are well trained.” That was an improvement, Cullen thought. He hadn’t stumbled over his words once in two whole sentences. 

“And life has not offered the same... _instruction_ in sex and romance.” Solas said “instruction” like it was the filthiest innuendo, and Cullen’s mind immediately conjured an image of Solas’s lips pressed to his ear, telling him exactly what he wanted Cullen to do to him. 

He needed to distract himself, or he’d soon be trying to hide an erection in the middle of the garden.

He tried to focus on their game of chess, but it was Solas’s turn, and the mage was taking unbearably long to decide his next move. Cullen had tentatively planned his next six moves when Solas finally said, “I believe it’s your move, Commander.”

Cullen laughed nervously. “I thought it was yours!”

“You seem to have become distracted. I am quite certain it is your turn,” Solas said gently.

If Cullen’s face hadn’t already been red, it surely was now. He played the first of the moves he had planned out.

He needed to find a way to restart the conversation, but in safer territory. Something that wouldn’t have his cock straining at his breeches. He could ask Solas about his scholarship - but that would mean entertaining the man’s dangerous views on spirits and the Fade. But then, Lavellan had once told him that the mage had warmed to her considerably after she’d asked him about his studies in the Fade. He pushed that thought away. He would ask, but only because it was an obvious topic of conversation, and one that was firmly _not_ sexual.

“Would you tell me of your studies in the Fade?” he asked, managing not to stammer.

“I would have thought such studies did not meet with your approval,” Solas said.

“I have - seen personally the devastation demons wreak. I believe that spirits are dangerous and not to be toyed with. But I held mages in the same suspicion in the past, at times without cause. I have come to see that mages deserve to be treated with the same respect as any other person, not with blind distrust.” Cullen paused, momentarily forgetting where his line of thought was meant to end up. He rubbed at his neck until he caught the thread again. “What I mean to say is - I’ve been wrong in fear and distrust before. I am willing to be proven wrong again, however unlikely I may think it.”

Solas raised his eyebrows. “I am pleased to hear it. What would you hear of my studies?”

Cullen suddenly felt unmoored. He hadn’t exactly tried to forget anything he heard about Solas’s heretical studies, but he had certainly not made a point of remembering. That was all well and good from a Chantry point of view, but now he felt he didn’t know enough about Solas’s studies to even know the first question to ask. He fumbled desperately through dim memories of his conversations with Lavellan, and finally found something. “Lavellan mentioned that you believe Cole is a spirit of compassion. I did not know there could be demons - spirits - of positive feelings.”

“There is a spirit or demon for any powerful emotion or concept. Spirits reflect what they see in the physical world. Unfortunately, fear and desire are more common in this world than compassion and love. Spirits may also be twisted from their purpose. A compassion spirit unable to help those who hurt may become despair,” Solas said. 

“If the rarity of a demon is determined by its rarity in the physical world, why have I never heard of a demon of hatred?” Cullen asked.

“Have you seen a great deal of hatred in your life?” Solas asked.

Cullen swallowed. He had only recently been able to admit to himself the hatred he’d felt toward mages after Kinloch, and he did not care to admit that weakness to another, especially a mage. “There is often hatred between templars and mages,” he said instead.

“That is perhaps what we see on the surface. But hatred, like anger, is often a mask for other emotions. Templars fear and distrust mages. Mages fear and distrust templars. Or hatred may stem, in part at least, from pride. Because of the Chantry’s teachings, templars may believe themselves superior to their charges. Pure hatred is far rarer than fear or pride.”

“Oh,” said Cullen. It was true that his hatred of mages had arisen from fear. He hoped it had never been pride. Maker knew he was no better than any other man, and worse than many.

There was a long span of silence after that, long enough that Cullen started to worry that he had destroyed any hope of an easy, friendly conversation. His anxiousness about it at least kept his mind focused on something other than Solas’s lips or voice, though he found his gaze lingering on Solas’s fingers as they moved the chess pieces each turn.

Finally, a question occurred to him, something to ask to start up the conversation again. “What is the rarest spirit you have encountered?”

Solas didn’t reply right away, the silence quickly engulfing them again. Cullen began to wonder if Solas had even heard his question, or if perhaps he was unwilling to answer.

“Wisdom,” Solas finally said.

It took yet another moment of painful silence for Cullen to realize why the idea of a spirit of Wisdom sounded familiar. There had been a report, some weeks back, of an excursion the Inquisitor went on with Solas, something about rescuing a friend - a friend who turned out to be a spirit of Wisdom. How had that excursion ended? He racked his mind, trying to recall the details of the report. He didn’t remember much, but if what he did remember was right, the Wisdom spirit had died.

No wonder Solas had taken so long to answer. 

He realized there had been another silence while he thought this through, but then Solas began again. “Did the Inquisitor tell you about our journey to the Exalted Plains?”

“There was a report. I was just remembering a bit of it,” Cullen said, then swallowed down a sudden bout of nerves. “Did you want to talk about it?”

There was yet another pause - their conversation seemed to be more silence than speech at this point - before Solas said, “No. But it would be unwise to continue grieving alone, and behaving unwisely makes a poor remembrance for Wisdom.”

They continued on that way for two more games of chess - unbearable silences, hesitant questions, halting answers. Solas told him much of Wisdom, but Cullen couldn’t help but feel that there were things Solas was leaving out. Cullen could understand that. There were so many parts of his own life that he wouldn’t be willing to share; it was only natural that Solas might likewise keep a few things in reserve.

The solemnity of their conversation kept Cullen’s mind from wandering too far as long as they were in the garden. 

But that night, with a lyrium headache keeping him wide awake into the wee hours of the morning, Cullen found his mind straying yet again. A memory of Solas’s nimble fingers on a chess piece became an image of those fingers on Cullen’s waist, his chest, his cock. A memory of Solas’s voice, that sultry emphasis on _instruction,_ became the imagined sound of Solas whispering his desires in Cullen’s ear, became the imagined sound of Solas sighing and moaning. A memory of Solas’s lips, curled down in concentration, became a memory of Solas’s lips on his, became the image of Solas’s mouth wrapped around his cock.

He had to stop thinking this way. If the afternoon’s conversation told him anything, it was that Solas’s views of spirits and the Fade were dangerous and heretical. He was a mage and an apostate. Cullen no longer hated mages on principle, but some of the fear lingered - rightly so, he thought.

And if Solas’s comments about spirits of Compassion and Wisdom were spoken with such confidence as to seem unquestionably convincing, that was just another indicator of how dangerous the mage was. He needed to keep his distance, keep everything in perspective.

Yet he couldn’t keep his mind from straying back to Solas, a litany of fingers and voice and lips playing through his mind like well-learned verses of the Chant.

Did Solas feel the same? He had given no indication, no flustered blushing like Cullen always fell into, but Solas rarely showed emotions visibly. Cullen fell asleep clinging to the thought that Solas did not return his infatuation. Whether that thought gave him hope or relief or a desperate, wistful longing, he couldn’t have said.


	3. What Any Friend Would Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Solas settle back into old routines - until Solas sees something very wrong in the Fade and rushes to protect Cullen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not quite as confident about this chapter, but I want to get it posted before the week begins. I work in education, and tomorrow is our first day of classes. You may hear less from me in the coming weeks, as I'll probably be working a lot of overtime! However, I do have a general plan for the next chapter, so I'm still hoping to stick to this every-other-week thing I have going.

“Good afternoon, Solas.” The Commander’s voice startled Solas into dropping his pen on the floor. It wasn’t that he’d been unaware of Cullen’s entrance into the rotunda; rather, he had resigned himself to the Commander’s silence.

He was surprised to feel relief wash over him, relief that the childish quiet spell seemed to be over.

“Good afternoon, Commander,” he replied evenly, leaving the pen where it was. He’d get it later rather than draw attention to his clumsiness and all it spoke to.

But then, after an unusually long pause just inside the rotunda door, Cullen made quickly for the pen.

“You needn’t-” Solas began, but the pen was already enfolded in Cullen’s grasp.

Solas was keenly aware of how close Cullen’s head suddenly was as he picked up the pen and straightened up once more.

“It’s, ah, no trouble,” said Cullen, placing the pen gingerly on the desk. There was a trace of pink across his cheeks to match his hesitant voice. It was charming - no, Solas chided himself, it was childish, a sign of the vast gulf in their experience.

Cullen was still standing there, now rubbing his neck in yet another charming-no-childish mannerism.

“Is there something you needed?” Solas prodded gently.

“Oh, ah, no. I’ll just be going now.” After the slightest pause, Cullen turned toward the great hall.

“Thank you for retrieving my pen,” Solas said to Cullen’s retreating back.

Cullen half-turned. “It’s no trouble,” he said, face ever-so-slightly pinker than before. Then he turned back and quickly disappeared into the hall.

So they were not back to normal again after all, Solas thought.

Over the next few days, Cullen managed a greeting each time he passed through the rotunda, and there were no more pens dropped, no more awkward conversations. No more conversations at all, for that matter. Solas felt it was a good sign that they were returning to their previous familiar-if-not-quite-easy friendship.

Part of him felt disappointed by that, but he refused to acknowledge that part of him. It would fade with time, if he left it alone.

~~~

Solas blinked repeatedly, clearing sleep from his eyes. The candle on his desk was burned down to near nothing, and his neck ached. He must have fallen asleep over his research, he realized.

It took a moment for the disorientation of waking to clear, and then he recalled his time in the Fade. Something had been amiss. There was a roiling darkness in the Fade, not far from the rotunda, and it had been drawing in demons, particularly Despair. He had struggled to get near it and finally concluded that it might be easier to simply find the suffering dreamer in the physical world and awaken him.

He hadn’t gotten close enough in the Fade to see whose dream it was. A gripping fear in his gut suggested it was Cullen. (He rationalized that it was merely his agents’ reports on Cullen’s personal history that indicated the Commander.) 

He was on his feet before he'd finished the thought, extinguishing the candle and conjuring up a bit of magelight in its stead. He was out on the battlements in what seemed like an instant, the chill mountain air bringing him fully awake.

The stars told him little about how late it was; the constellations had shifted over the millennia, and he was no longer able to tell time by them with precision.

It was more telling that there were no candles visible in the windows of the Commander’s tower. The man was notorious for working late into the night, so the absence of light from the tower told him both that it was likely well past midnight and that Cullen may well have been asleep and caught in a nightmare.

Solas reached the tower door before realizing that he’d sped up to a run. He shook his head as he pulled the door open. His worry was entirely disproportionate; he needed to get himself under control.

He forced himself not to rush as he entered the tower, registered that Cullen was not at his desk, and began to climb the ladder into Cullen’s bed chamber. 

As he climbed, he heard thrashing and rustling, as if Cullen was tossing and turning. Solas’s stomach knotted; his suspicion that the nightmare was Cullen’s seemed all but confirmed.

He reached the top of the ladder and turned toward the bed. In the greenish light of the wisp, Cullen looked terribly sickly. His face was soaked in sweat and furrowed with fear, his hair damp and sticking to his forehead. A niggling voice in the back of Solas’s mind said that Cullen looked beautiful even like this. He ignored that voice, just as he ignored the tightening knot of worry in his stomach. He shoved it all down to take the two long strides to Cullen’s side.

He laid his fingers lightly on Cullen’s temple to push the gentlest bit of wakening magic into him. “Cullen,  _ wake up.” _

He woke with a start, lurching toward Solas as if to attack him. Solas stepped back quickly, and Cullen collapsed back onto the bed, looking as weak as a sick child. “Solas?” he asked, voice raspy and barely audible.

Solas schooled his voice into calmness. “Yes. I saw your nightmare in the Fade. You had attracted a number of demons. It seemed best to awaken you.”

“Thank you,” Cullen replied, in no stronger a voice than before.

Perhaps it was only his outsized worry, but Solas found himself wondering whether Cullen’s weakness and night sweats might have been caused by something other than the nightmare. He carefully sent a tendril of magic toward Cullen, feeling for underlying illness or injury.

Cullen suddenly scrambled into a sitting position. “What are you doing?”

Solas retracted his magic, having gotten no more than a vague sense that something was not right. “I apologize. I was merely checking to see if you were injured. I should have asked first.”

Cullen visibly took a deep breath. “I’m fine.”

“No, you are not,” Solas said before he’d fully considered it. Then it occurred to him: When had he ever smelled the ozone scent of lyrium on Cullen? He had noticed it on the few other Templars in the Inquisition’s ranks, but never on Cullen. “You are experiencing lyrium withdrawal.”

Cullen groaned and sank down into the bed. “I wish you had not… whatever it was you did.”

“My magic did not tell me that. Lyrium has a smell that lingers on regular users. You do not smell of lyrium,” Solas clarified.

“Oh.”

“It is a pity I didn’t realize earlier. I may be able to help.” Lyrium addiction had not been common in Elvhenan, but it had been common enough that there had been treatments. It was never an area of particular interest for Solas, but he knew the rudiments of it. Likely he could recreate the rest with a bit of time and research.

“I do not want help,” Cullen said sullenly.

“You are the Commander of the Inquisition. Were you not, you could punish yourself all you liked. But the Inquisition needs its Commander at his best.”

“I am not punishing myself,” Cullen protested.

Solas chose to ignore the obvious lie. “I will need some time to brew a potion that will address the root causes, but I may be able to alleviate some of your symptoms tonight. Do you have a headache? A fever?”

Cullen sighed. “A headache, yes. I’m not sure about a fever.”

Solas took a slow step forward toward the bed and began to reach a hand out. “If I may?”

Cullen closed his eyes and nodded once. Solas rested a hand against Cullen’s forehead. It was too intimate a gesture, and he felt more like a mother or a lover than a healer. He managed to keep his thoughts from straying further, but his heart rate disobediently refused to slow even as he focused on the task at hand. Cullen was warm, almost hot, to the touch, despite the cold mountain air pouring in through the ridiculous hole in his roof. 

“Definitely feverish. I’m going to use magic to bring down the fever and relieve the headache,” he said, half expecting Cullen to reject the magic outright.

Cullen stiffened slightly but said nothing. After a moment, he nodded, just once again. 

Solas moved his hand from Cullen’s forehead to his temple, resting fingertips lightly. His other hand went to the other temple. Bringing the fever down was a few moments’ work, not so distant from elemental magic, really. The headache was trickier business. After a few minutes to determine what sort of headache it was and what magical treatment it might respond to, Solas carefully, minutely expanded the arteries in Cullen’s brain to increase blood flow.

Cullen’s eyes widened. “That’s already much better,” he said. “How did you do that? Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

“Suffice to say it is old Elvhen magic. Now, we should see about getting you back to sleep without attracting demons.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem with the withdrawal symptoms under control. The nightmares are usually brought on by withdrawal,” said Cullen.

Solas hesitated for the briefest moment. He should use this as an excuse to leave an already too-intimate situation. But the worry that has taken up residence in him will threaten his own ability to sleep, and there are agents he must meet in the Fade before dawn. “Still,” he said, “I will feel more comfortable if I know you are safe. I will enter the Fade with you and shape it to give you peace. Once I am sure you are not attracting demons, I will return to my quarters.”

His brook-no-arguments tone had the desired effect. Cullen simply said, “All right” and sighed heavily before adding, “It may take me some time to get back to sleep.”

“I can help with that as well,” Solas offered.

“With magic?” Cullen asked wearily.

“Of course.”

“That may trigger the nightmares,” Cullen warned.

“If it does, I will be here to dispel them. May I?” Solas reached a hand out toward Cullen’s forehead once again.

There was a long pause, and Solas began to think this would be one step too far for Cullen’s Templar sensibilities. Finally, so quietly Solas almost missed it, Cullen whispered, “Alright.”

A soft press of fingertips to temple, a murmured “Sleep,” and a gentle release of magic, and Cullen was slipping into sleep. Solas settled himself cross-legged on the floor and put himself into a state of wakeful meditation that he often used to access the Fade.

The world around Cullen was still soft and gray when Solas reached him in the Fade.

“Solas? Is that really you?”

“Yes,” he said, and immediately devoted his attention to forming the Fade around Cullen. Remembering his agents’ reports on Cullen’s childhood, Solas raised up barley fields and a lake, trees dotting the landscape. A dock and a small boat came to rest on the lake, as well as a mother duck and her ducklings. Solas shaped the sky above - a midsummer blue with fluffy white clouds drifting slowly past.

He was considering whether he ought to add a barn when his attention was caught by an awed whisper: “How did you know?”

Solas turned to face Cullen again. “I was simply looking for a peaceful scene that one might find in Ferelden. Does it feel familiar to you?”

“It’s not quite the same, but it feels like Honnleath. My home before I joined the Templars. I -” Cullen swallowed. “You chose well. Thank you.”

“I am glad my choice of landscape brings you comfort.” Solas paused for a long while, assessing the Fade around them. The demons from earlier seemed to have dispersed, and all was quiet in their vicinity. “I believe it will be safe for you the rest of the night,” he announced.

“Thank you,” Cullen said. “I… You have done far more than was required of you tonight, and I appreciate it.”

“Please, think no more of it. It is only what any friend would do.” The words were out before Solas had time to decide whether they invited too much familiarity. He reproached himself internally before remembering there was little to be done about words already said. “I should be going now,” he said.

“Oh,” said Cullen. His face was easy to read under most circumstances, but even more so in the Fade, where emotions ran stronger. Solas saw disappointment and gratitude and a profound yearning that seemed to point in his own direction.

He forced himself not to respond to those feelings. “Good night, Commander,” he said evenly, and drew himself out of the Fade before he could hear a reply.

Back in the physical world, Solas smoothly stood from his position on the floor. Cullen lay peacefully, the tiny hint of a smile suggesting he was still in the barley fields by the lake and perfectly content there. 

The sweat from earlier had dried, leaving his face peaceful and lovely in the moon- and wisp-light. Solas was transfixed by the play of the light across Cullen’s curly hair. He was truly a beautiful man, no matter how human and mortal.

It could hardly hurt; the man was deeply asleep. Before he could talk himself out of it, Solas leaned down and pressed a kiss to Cullen’s forehead. Then he turned around and made his way to the ladder, down it, and out across the battlements to his quarters.


	4. Whatever These Moments May Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen believes Solas's visit was a dream - but Maker, does he wish it had been real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait on this one! I work in education, so this our busiest time of year, and finding the mental space for writing has been a challenge. I'm hoping a twice-weekly date with my local coffee shop will have the next chapter done sooner! :)
> 
> Special thanks to [dragonifyoudare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonifyoudare/pseuds/dragonifyoudare) for beta reading this chapter! I recommend her fic "Their Chorus Was a Battle Cry."

The next morning, Cullen was sure Solas’s visit had been a dream. In the moment, it had been comforting, but in the light of morning, it was confusing. Was he already so infatuated as to dream of Solas offering him comfort and healing? And then there was the faintest, most distant memory of lips pressing to his forehead. 

If the dream itself hadn’t told him he was in too deep, his longing for it to have been real made it all too obvious.

Perhaps the dream was only his mind trying to explain why he had suddenly been relieved of the worst of his symptoms at some point in the night. Perhaps the longing was only longing to be done with lyrium withdrawal and memories of Kinloch.

Perhaps cows could fly. 

He might as well admit it to himself: he was deeply infatuated with the apostate. It wasn’t as if this would be his first attraction to someone he could not be with. His past infatuations had been fellow recruits, mages, fellow Templars - all off-limits due to the rules against fraternization. Others had flouted such policies, but Cullen had always been one to abide by rules and follow orders. (He’d had dalliances with women he’d met at taverns in Kirkwall, but those had not lasted long enough for emotional attachment.)

The Inquisition may not have had a policy against fraternization, except within the same line of command (and Solas had never been part of Cullen’s command structure), but even presuming Solas might be interested, Cullen could not be with an apostate with dangerously heretical views of demons.

Could he?

He shook his head and pushed the matter from his mind. He had work to do.

He managed to make it through the morning’s reports before he had to meet with the Inquisitor and her advisors. Perhaps his thoughts strayed a few times, but the silver lining of lyrium withdrawal was that he’d grown skilled at dragging his mind back on task.

The time of the meeting approached, and his stomach began to tie itself in knots. He’d been doing so well with walking through the rotunda and acting as if nothing had changed between him and Solas, but could he maintain that illusion after last night’s dream?

This was ridiculous. He was a grown man, trained in self-discipline. He could walk through a room and say good morning.

He spent the walk across the battlements rehearsing in his mind - he’d keep his tone brisk and professional. Just “Good morning, Solas,” and that would be it. Or maybe just “Good morning.” Leave off the name. Keep it impersonal.

He was caught nearly off-balance when he entered the rotunda and found it empty. Perhaps Solas had slept late. He supposed extra sleep wasn’t lazy if one’s research was in the Fade.

Put that way, the mage probably worked more than he did.

If he’d found it easy to drag himself back on task over his reports, perhaps it was because they all actively required his attention. Meetings with the advisors were more difficult, especially when conversation centered around whiny nobles and diplomatic strategy. 

He forced himself to focus. “The Duke of Pelane is surely the better option,” Josephine was saying, “he has fewer ties to the Chantry and is therefore more likely to side with us than with them.”

“But his cousin’s ties to the Chantry might make her the better option. Perhaps we could use those connections to our advantage,” countered Leliana.

Endless politics, and nothing he could do with any of it. 

What might he do if Solas ever did come to him as he had in the dream? He was not accustomed to accepting help, but he would swallow his pride if he could only...

Damn his distractible mind. For once free of the lyrium headache, and all he could think of was the idea of Solas caring enough to come to his aid. It had been an eternity since anyone had treated him with the tenderness Solas had shown him in the dream.

But it was not merely comfort or tenderness his mind kept straying to, if he was being honest with himself. It was Solas specifically. _His_ gentle hands, _his_ concern-furrowed brow, _his_ caring eyes, _his_ soothing voice.

“So what are we going to do about it?” asked Lavellan, startling him out of his reverie.

“About…” Cullen began, rubbing his neck.

“About the darkspawn along the Storm Coast?” Lavellan reminded. She wasn’t smirking, so apparently she hadn’t the first clue what he’d been thinking of instead.

“Of course. We can send a contingent of soldiers. Perhaps Blackwall would like to lead them?”

“Perfect. He’ll know how best to deal with darkspawn.” Lavellan turned her gaze to Josephine, then Leliana. “Is there anything else we needed to cover this morning?”

Leliana shook her head.

Josephine said, “Not this morning. We should meet again this afternoon to ensure we have not missed any details in our preparations for Halamshiral. But for now I’m sure we all have other tasks to attend.”

Lavellan raised her eyebrows. “I hope you mean lunch, vhenan. I’m famished, and I’m certain you didn’t eat breakfast.”

“I appreciate your fussing, but it is not necessary,” Josephine protested. “Shall we meet again in three bells?”

They all agreed and filed out of the war room before going their separate ways.

It _was_ lunch time. Perhaps he might detour through the kitchens and grab a bite to eat. It was not at all a matter of avoiding the rotunda.

~~~

Cullen didn’t even look up from his work when the door opened. The disadvantage of his central location in the battlements was that people often passed through his office on their way somewhere else. If he looked up every time the door opened, he’d never get anything done.

“Good evening, Commander.”

Cullen’s heart began to race at the sound of that voice, even before he looked up to see Solas standing before his desk, hands clasped behind his back. (When had that posture grown so familiar to him?)

“Evening,” he managed to choke out.

“Have your headache and fever remained at bay?” Solas asked.

“How did you -” Cullen paused, and when he began again, his voice was low. “It wasn’t a dream, then?”

Solas raised his eyebrows. “What did you believe you dreamed?”

“That you woke me from a nightmare and used some kind of magic to cure my headache and fever.” Cullen realized he was looking away and rubbing his neck again. He forced himself to drop his hand and look back at Solas. 

“Ah. Then no, it was not a dream. Unfortunately, the magic I performed was not a full cure. I merely treated the symptoms, not the underlying cause. Which brings me back to the reason for my visit. Have any of your symptoms returned?”

“Er, the headache started again, perhaps an hour ago. It’s mild now, but they always build back up,” Cullen admitted.

“If I may?” Solas asked, inclining his head.

Cullen swallowed, suddenly overwhelmed. Relief that his withdrawal symptoms might finally be treatable swirled with a fluttery nervous excitement about Solas coming close to him, pressing fingers to his temples. Were he dreaming now, he’d be attracting desire demons. 

He couldn’t articulate a response, so he simply nodded.

It was enough. Cullen’s stomach tied itself in knots as Solas circled around to his side of the desk. 

There was no sign in Solas’s expression, as he stepped close enough to touch, that he felt anything like the affection and attraction and anxiousness that were welling up in Cullen. But Solas almost never showed much of what he was feeling. When he’d come back after the death of his spirit friend, his grief had not shown in his face or voice, but rather in an uncharacteristic quietness and withdrawal from the others in the Inquisition. That he was here, in Cullen’s space, for the second time in as many days, might be the only indication he would give that anything had changed.

Solas was reaching out, then, both hands extending toward Cullen’s temples. Cullen steeled himself and took one of Solas’s hands in both of his own. He watched as expression flickered across Solas’s face. He thought he saw confusion and then something like desire, but the expressions were gone so quickly, replaced by Solas’s usual impassive mask, that he could not be certain.

“Solas,” he began, before realizing he had no idea what he was going to say. “I think Varric lied about the reason he chose you for the dare,” he blurted. This would not have been how he’d have chosen to start this conversation, if his mind weren’t such a tangled mess. But he’d started it, he may as well finish it. “I think he saw something I hadn’t yet recognized myself. There’s something about you… I… And I don’t think you’d be here, offering me… whatever this is… if something hadn’t changed between us.”

Cullen had only managed to keep his gaze off the floorboards because he was searching, intently and almost involuntarily, for any sign in Solas’s face that he felt the same. Ripples of emotion passed over Solas’s face too quickly for Cullen to place any of it.

For a long moment, they remained there. Cullen found himself caught in Solas’s eyes, stomach twisting desperately. 

“Tell me you want this too,” he whispered finally, his throat tight as if unwilling to let the words go.

“I do,” Solas said quietly, and then Cullen thought he saw panic rise up and vanish from Solas’s face.

Solas’s hand was still caught up in his. He pressed his lips to Solas’s palm, heard the mage sigh in response. He kissed the heel of his hand, the inside of his wrist, letting the lingering of his lips say everything he couldn’t find words for.

“Commander.”

Cullen’s heart sank at hearing his title rather than his name.

Solas continued. “Perhaps before your headache grows worse, we ought to…”

He released Solas’s hand and cleared his throat. “Right. Of course.” He was such an idiot. He’d overstepped. Solas didn’t want this after all, or he was asking for too much too soon. He felt his face warm; no doubt he was blushing.

“Headaches are not easy to treat. It requires a great deal of precision and focus,” Solas said, and it sounded to Cullen like an apology as much as an explanation.

“I… thank you,” Cullen said.

Then Solas’s fingertips were on his temples and Cullen closed his eyes into the sensation of the headache dwindling.

It wasn’t quite gone when Solas’s fingertips left his temples. But instead of simply withdrawing, Solas traced his fingers down Cullen’s face, whispering across cheeks and jaw. When Cullen opened his eyes, longing was plainly visible in Solas’s face.

He stood abruptly, wrapped one arm around Solas’s waist, the other hand going to his face. But Solas pulled back. “It would be kinder in the long run…” he said, half turning toward the door he’d come in through.

"I am not asking for the long run. What right would I have?"

Solas turned back toward him, the corners of his mouth turned down in sorrow but the slightest glimmer of hope in his eyes. Still, he said nothing, and Cullen had to speak before the silence crushed him.

"All I'm asking is that these moments, whatever they may be, we let them happen." Cullen forced himself to stop talking before it became rambling. Forced himself not to add “please,” because he would not beg.

“I… maybe… If I could take some time to think,” Solas said. “There are… considerations.”

“Of course. I should not have pushed you,” Cullen replied. He hoped he’d achieved an even tone despite his warring hope and disappointment.

“I will take my leave. Your headache should remain under control for some time now.” Solas paused. “May I have your leave to visit you in the Fade periodically? I would like to ensure that your sleep is not troubled again.”

Cullen nodded. “Yes.” He paused. “And thank you, Solas. I haven’t felt this much like myself since before… before I stopped taking the lyrium.”

“No need to thank me. It is to all of our advantage if our Commander is at his full strength. Good night, Cullen.” Solas turned and strode toward the door.

“Good night, Solas.”

_He used my name just then_ , Cullen thought, and the slightest hint of a smile crept onto his face.


	5. To Keep the Ocean from Overflowing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas takes time to consider the implications of a relationship with Cullen. Featuring our favorite compassion spirit!

They called it felandaris now, and it had become incredibly rare with the Veil up, and it now had no leaves at all instead of few - but with any luck it still held the same properties as the old falondaris. He was spending quite a lot of money purchasing Adan’s supply of the herb, so he sincerely hoped it was not in vain. 

“I hope you’re not going to need more of it soon. Can never keep a stable supply of those weeds,” Adan said.

“Wondering and worrying: will it even work? It’s all different now. If it works, does that mean it’s less different? More real? If it works, is _he_ real?” Cole paused. “Why do you think Cullen isn’t real?”

“This is not the place for this conversation, Cole.” Solas turned back to Adan. “Thank you. I may need more eventually, but I am not sure what to expect with this potion.”

He walked away from Adan’s cart in the courtyard, nodding an invitation to Cole to accompany him.

By some miracle, Cole didn't have to be told twice not to voice Solas's thoughts as they walked together back to Solas's quarters. He spoke from the minds of some of the other people they passed, but none of it was of particular interest to Solas. It gave him time to consider whether and how he might explain his thoughts to Cole - and to consider how Cole might be able to answer some of the questions he had about modern peoples.

When they had reached his quarters, Solas shut the door behind them. 

“Would you consider a nug a real person?” he asked Cole, quite seriously.

“Yes? No. Maybe?”

Solas sighed. Perhaps Cole would not be of much help to him in this. 

“Do nugs think and feel like people?”

Cole thought for a long time on that one, head tilted like a puppy dog. Perhaps he was listening to someone at a distance, trying to see their thoughts differently to answer Solas’s question.

“Nugs can be sad,” he said finally, “But people can be - guilt-grim, shame-shattered, locked in lies, loving but unloved, racked by recollections.”

“There’s more complexity in people,” Solas said.

“Yes. Knots to untie before they can be free,” Cole confirmed.

“When you hear my pains, are they more complex than other people’s? Just like people are more complex than nugs?” Solas asked.

Cole listened again, for even longer this time, his face furrowed around his concentration.

“Your hurts are older,” he said finally. “You used to feel them louder than the others, but you cut a channel, canal them, to keep the ocean from overflowing.” He paused. “Can oceans overflow?”

“Not exactly,” Solas said. “So my emotions are ‘louder’ but not more complex?”

Cole nodded.

Now that was interesting. He had been thinking of the Veil as cutting people off from the depth (and therefore complexity) of their emotions, but perhaps the Veil cut people off from only the full magnitude of their emotions. The quality of people’s feelings was unchanged, and only quantity was altered.

These people were more like the ancient Elvhen than he had dared to imagine, were not in any sense mere animals.

And restoring Elvhenan would mean allowing them to die by the million.

He’d been hoping Cole’s insight would bolster his intentions to maintain a professional distance between himself and Cullen. Instead, he found his entire understanding of the world crumbling around him.

Later that night, after he’d finished Cullen’s daily headache treatment, it occurred to him that there was now no reason for him not to pursue Cullen - apart from the reality that he could not remain with the Inquisition after Corypheus was defeated. Apart from the fact that he was still planning to tear Cullen’s world down, regardless of the cost in lives.

But Cullen himself had said he wasn’t asking for the long term. Perhaps they could have just this time, however long he had left with the Inquisition. Perhaps he wouldn’t break both their hearts when he left. 

Maybe in another millennium or two, he’d learn to be less of a fool about the people and worlds he loved.

~~~

Cullen had been more reserved with Solas the last few times he’d gone to treat his headaches. Solas was glad to have his request for time honored so graciously, but now, walking across the battlements to Cullen’s office, he found himself wondering how to pick up where they’d left off.

Perhaps he could leave that question for later. Cullen would ask, or an opportunity would present itself. There was no need to rush.

Tell that to his feet hurrying across the battlements decidedly faster than his usual saunter.

He entered Cullen’s office to find the Commander slumped over his reports, as seemed to be usual despite the late hour. He had divested himself of his armor, and in his simple shirt seemed far more the overworked man than the confident Commander.

“Good evening, Cullen,” Solas said.

The Commander looked up with a start, and Solas wasn’t sure if he saw a glint of hope in his eyes or if that was only the candlelight picking up the golden highlights there. Solas felt his mouth go dry. _Absurd to react so strongly_ , Solas thought, but he knew he’d always been disastrously weak for beauty, whether in people or art or nature.

“Good evening, Solas,” Cullen was saying.

Solas walked steadily around to Cullen’s side of the desk as he’d done the last several days. “How is the headache tonight?” he asked.

“Worse than it’s been the last few days,” Cullen answered with a sigh.

Solas frowned. “The treatment should not be decreasing in efficacy. Do you often have changes in severity from day to day?”

“Yes,” Cullen said, nodding. “Occasionally there’s a particularly bad day. I’ve never been able to work out any pattern in it.”

“It may take a little longer to bring down tonight then,” Solas said, and slowly reached forward to rest his fingertips on Cullen’s temples.

Somehow, despite the clearly professional activity of healing, that first moment of contact never felt any less intimate and precarious. He tucked away that feeling and all his jumbled responses to it, and focused on the work of relieving Cullen’s headache.

There was a routine to this already, and they settled into silence. Solas’s eyes fell closed as he focused on improving the blood flow in Cullen’s brain. It was fortunate Cullen was a good patient, quiet and still, for it was painstakingly precise work, and any small movement might have caused severe harm.

He paused when he believed everything had been brought into balance again. “Has it begun to help?”

“Yes. I think it’s about where you’ve been leaving it. It always takes a little while longer for the pain to totally stop.”

“That is to be expected,” Solas replied, pulling his hands back from Cullen and letting them drop to his sides. “I have finished work on a potion I believe should treat the root causes. It will need to brew overnight, but we can test it tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Cullen said, his voice betraying both hope and disappointment. “If it works, will I no longer need the daily treatments?”

“It may take some days or weeks to take full effect. In the meantime, we can continue treatments as needed,” Solas said.

They fell silent for a long moment. It didn't take much imagination from this position - Cullen below him, close enough to touch - to picture Cullen on his knees, lips wrapped around Solas's cock. His eyes fell closed as he let himself savor that image for just a moment. When he opened them, Cullen was looking up at him, all dark, wide pupils through long lashes, lips parted slightly. Solas swallowed hard and looked away. He didn't know how far Cullen wanted to take this, and until he knew, he should keep his desires in check.

"Solas?" Cullen's voice had a husky edge to it, and Solas felt his self-control crumble in response. He looked back at Cullen.

“Copper for your thoughts?” Cullen asked.

Solas had not felt the tips of his ears go red in so long he almost didn’t recognize the sensation. He had told so many quick half-truths lately that it had become second nature, but he could not think of one now, too distracted by the heat in his ears and the sight of Cullen before him, candlelight sparking pale gold in his stubble.

The moment went on, and words would not come, and Solas half forgot what he’d been thinking when Cullen asked him. Longing welled up within him, though he could not have said what for; to kiss, to caress, yes, but something about the silence and the soft light made him yearn for more than those mere touches. He leaned down, rested fingertips lightly on Cullen’s chin, and kissed him, soft, slow, sensual.

It was a precious eternity, and before it was over, Solas was already working to memorize the sensation for some lonely day not so far in the future.

Their mouths parted just long enough for Cullen to ask, “Is that what you were thinking of?”

“More or less,” Solas replied, and kissed him again.

Cullen’s arms wound around his waist and pulled him forward and down ‘til he was seated astride Cullen’s lap.

If this had been Elvhenan, he’d have drawn this moment out for hours, given every sensation its due. As it was, there was so little time, and Solas felt everything at once: Cullen’s arms, warm and secure around his waist; Cullen’s thighs, strong but a bit soft, beneath his own; Cullen’s tongue drifting across his lower lip. He moved his hands, burying them in Cullen’s curls, and met Cullen’s tongue with his own.

And then, before Solas had really had the chance to savor that warm weight of Cullen’s arms around him, Cullen’s hands were moving, sliding up under his tunic. His fingertips were cold, his palms warm, his skin rough but his touch gentle as a whisper, and Solas sighed into the kiss as Cullen’s hands drifted from his sides across his stomach to his chest.

The door opened with a loud creak, and Cullen pulled back from the kiss with a start and dropped his hands to rest lightly on Solas’s waist.

“Oh, uh, report for you, Commander. I can just, uh, set it on the bookshelf here.”

“That will do, thank you. And Jim? Keep this to yourself. I’m not sure we’re ready for the entire Inquisition to know,” said Cullen.

The door closed with a bang, and Cullen rested his forehead against Solas’s neck and sighed. “I don’t want to keep this a secret, but… I don’t even know what ‘this’ is.”

Solas wasn’t sure if that was a question or how to reply, so he didn’t.

Cullen drew back far enough to look Solas in the eye, although soon enough he was breaking eye contact to gaze at the floor. “I didn’t even ask you if you’d had enough time to think like you asked for. I just assumed because you…”

Solas should have been annoyed by Cullen’s uncertainty and tentativeness, yet he found affection swelling in his chest instead. His hands were still in Cullen’s hair, and he brought them forward to cup the Commander’s face. Cullen looked back at him.

“I’ve considered what I needed to consider. Your assumption about the kiss was correct,” Solas said.

A layer of worry visibly fell away from Cullen’s face, the crinkles around his eyes growing shallower. Then they suddenly deepened again. “You said this isn’t for the long run,” Cullen went on. (It wasn’t quite what Solas had said, and it was missing a great deal of what Solas had meant, but it wasn’t wrong either.) “Is it only tonight? Weeks? Months?”

There was a tightness in Cullen’s voice that tied knots in Solas’s stomach.

“Until we defeat Corypheus.” _Fenedhis_ , he had not meant for it to sound so much like a promise to be together that long. Solas continued, “I am still an apostate mage. When order is restored, that will mean something again.”

Cullen’s grip on his waist tightened. “Do you really think I would let anyone hurt you?”

“Not physically, perhaps, but I would lose my freedom to a Circle,” said Solas.

A shadow of anger passed across Cullen’s face. “I would not allow - I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pressure you to stay or to ask for more than you’re willing to give. Just know…” He shook his head. “Never mind.”

How were they already at a point where Cullen was all but swearing to protect him? Or would he have done the same when all they’d had was a tentative friendship over chess?

For all the errors of his past, for all that he’d been jailer and cudgel, and for all the pain and fear he’d suffered, there was in this human man an utterly innocent desire to protect, a simple goodness that Solas could not remember having seen in a corporeal being in millennia. Perhaps ever. 

Part of him - the part that was all Dread Wolf, the “god” and not the man - wanted to pull away from everything Cullen’s protectiveness implied. But Solas the man was already leaning forward. When their lips met, Solas’s breath was wrested from him by the sheer tenderness of the kiss. And it went on, just lips, sometimes brushing, sometimes pressing, and every firm press from Cullen’s lips felt like a promise Cullen had held back from voicing. 

Cullen pulled back, only to turn his head a bit and press his lips against Solas’s neck so slowly and tenderly that it drew a low moan from Solas. His heart was racing, and he was suddenly aware of the fabric of his leggings, soft but now uncomfortably tight. It didn’t hold his attention long, because Cullen’s lips were still moving deliciously against his neck.

Solas was lost in that sensation until Cullen’s hands moved down to grasp his hips, and Solas found his own hands grasping Cullen’s shirt and realized he didn’t remember when he’d moved them there.

Then Cullen’s mouth was back on his, more open and wetter but slow, somehow still just as achingly sweet as before. Cullen dragged him forward in his lap until they were pressed to each other, Solas’s arms trapped between their chests, Cullen’s erection pressed to Solas’s own. Cullen moaned into the kiss as Solas rolled his hips and crept one hand up to cup the back of Cullen’s neck, fingertips brushing curls.

Cullen broke away from the kiss and Solas had to stop himself from chasing it.

Cullen visibly swallowed, but his voice was still low and husky when he spoke. “Maybe we should take this upstairs?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's something so satisfying about ending the chapter there after so frequently being on the reader end of this slow burn crime. Will they actually finally get it on next chapter? Or will there be yet another interruption or obstacle?? I don' know for sure yet, so you'll have to tune in next chapter to see what goes down!


	6. Then I'll Teach You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was going to write something coy here, but honestly I am not feeling coy. This chapter is porn. Nearly 7k of pure porn. Porn with feelings but not with plot. Please enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait between updates. I'm slow at writing smut, and I was working on Fic or Treat as well! As a reward for your wait, this chapter is twice as long as any of the others to-date and hopefully very sexy.
> 
> Please note the updated tags.
> 
> Special thanks to [Enigmalea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmalea/pseuds/enigmalea) who basically midwifed this chapter. You can thank Enigmalea for the teacher/student dynamic and the specific sex position.
> 
> This chapter was not beta read, so please let me know if there are any errors or characterization issues that are bugging you! It's very likely that there's at least one missing letter or punctuation mark because my Bluetooth keyboard is a bitch, and if I don't catch it right away, I'll read over it forever.

Cullen was drowning in emotion. It was the first time he’d shared such intimacy with someone he truly cared for, and he hadn’t realized how much he had yearned for this.

Solas somehow made standing up from Cullen’s lap look graceful. “Lead on,” Solas said, gesturing toward the ladder. 

Cullen found his legs were shaky as he stood and walked to each door in turn to bar them. He passed close to Solas on his way to the ladder, and pulled him in for another kiss, soft and tender at first but building in passion. He brushed his tongue across Solas’s lower lip, felt Solas’s tongue meet his, then pulled away. Solas leaned in as if to continue the kiss before he caught himself and let Cullen go on toward the ladder. The desire in Solas’s eyes made Cullen want to pin him to the desk and take him then and there, but a larger part of him wanted to take things slow. If they only had however many months it took to take down Corypheus, he was going to savor every second of it.

He forced himself to turn around and focus on climbing the ladder. When he reached the top, he immediately set about finding as many candles as he could. It was an overcast night, with very little moonlight coming through his roof, and he wanted to _see_.

He was fumbling through a drawer looking for his tinderbox when Solas reached the top of the ladder.

“What are you looking for?” Solas asked behind him.

“My tinderbox. I wanted to get some candles lit.”

“You are taking a mage to bed, and you intend to light your candles with a tinderbox?” Solas teased gently.

“Oh.” Cullen’s hand went to the back of his neck. “Go ahead then.”

The candles flared to life, and then Solas’s fingers wrapped around his hand, pulling it away from his neck. Solas’s lips replaced his hand, ghosting over the back of Cullen’s neck as Solas moved their joined hands around Cullen’s waist, pulling him close. 

All too soon, Solas’s lips disappeared from his neck, leaving Cullen feeling strangely exposed there. But then Solas was whispering huskily in his ear: “Turn around. I want to see your face in this light.”

His stomach responded to Solas’s voice with flutters of nervous excitement, and he gladly obeyed the command, Solas’s arm barely moving from his waist as he turned, giving him just enough room to turn before pulling him close again. 

Their faces were but an inch or two apart, but Solas was studying him earnestly. Cullen watched his eyes make miniscule movements, seeming to linger on each square inch of his face. His past lovers (if he could even call them that) had looked at him with admiration, but none had lingered like this. The moment went on long enough that he began to feel unsettled by the intensity of Solas’s gaze.

“What are you doing?” he finally asked.

The slightest tinge of pink rose in Solas’s cheeks. “I apologize, I got carried away. I was planning a painting in my mind."

"Of me?" Cullen asked, incredulous.

"Of the _other_ most beautiful man in Thedas,” Solas said, and the snide humor in his voice almost made Cullen miss the compliment. But before he could protest the obvious exaggeration, Solas tipped his face up to kiss him, open-mouthed and lingering. Solas’s free hand wrapped around the back of his neck, fingertips playing with his curls, and the resulting light brushes against his skin took Cullen’s breath away.

His arms had been caught up between their chests. He crept one hand up to Solas’s neck and the other around his waist, pulling him closer yet.

The press of Solas’s obvious erection against him had his mind racing, even as their mouths moved together with agonizing slowness. He wanted things he’d never done. Would he even like the feel of another man’s cock in his mouth? The thought had him reeling and desperate and he moaned into Solas’s mouth. Solas gave an approving little “mmm” in response.

He grasped Solas’s tunic and began working it up his torso, breaking the kiss at the last moment before pulling the tunic over Solas’s head. After tossing the garment aside, he wrapped both hands around Solas’s now-bare waist - registered the soft smoothness of his skin - and pulled Solas back into the kiss, setting a more passionate pace.

Solas matched his fervor, tongue thrusting into Cullen’s mouth, and Cullen couldn’t help but think of it as an allusion to other things that could be thrusting into him. And then Solas’s hand was on him, stroking him lightly through his breeches, and for a moment he lost track of any other thought or sensation, focused only on that tantalizing, too-light touch.

Then he moved his hands down to grip the back of Solas’s thighs, muscular but with just enough soft give to make gripping there utterly satisfying. He lifted the elf easily and carried him the few steps to the bed, their mouths never parting. Solas’s arms went around his neck, his legs around Cullen’s waist, pressing them together at the hips.

He laid Solas out on the bed gently, kissing him all the way down, his left knee pressing into the mattress and right foot still planted on the floor. In the process of setting him down, Solas had taken his arms from around Cullen’s neck, and he felt the absence keenly until he realized where those hands had gone: Solas was peeling himself out of his leggings. Cullen’s mouth went dry as he watched Solas’s hips cant off the bed, as he watched inch after inch of pale skin revealed, Solas’s cock at the center of it all, tip already glistening.

He was suddenly aware of Solas watching his face, even as he tossed his leggings aside, footwraps somehow having come undone with them. He felt himself flush in a brief moment of self-consciousness, but there were too many other things taking his attention and his abashment quickly faded.

He ran his eyes up and down Solas’s body, all wiry muscle and smooth, pale skin. “Maker, you’re beautiful,” he breathed.

Solas… Solas _snorted._ Cullen panicked. Had he overstepped, said something embarrassing? Was he doing something wrong? He couldn’t see how, but he was beyond his comfort zone, and he had no script for this.

Solas was _shaking._

“What?” Cullen asked, rather desperately. It came out sounding rather gruffer than he’d have liked.

“You fail to see the irony in _you_ calling _me_ beautiful? I am quite certain no one has called me beautiful since I wore my hair long,” Solas said, voice still thick with stifled laughter.

Cullen tried to imagine Solas with long hair, but his mind’s eye would not cooperate. The sight before him was too captivating to leave room for other visions. 

He leaned down to press a soft, quick kiss to Solas’s lips. “You’re lovely just as you are now,” he murmured.

Solas didn’t reply, only wrapped both hands around the back of Cullen’s neck and pulled him down for another kiss, tongue gliding suggestively across Cullen’s lip.

Oh, he wanted… he didn’t know how to… He knew how to drive a woman wild with want (his shyness had made him slow at first, and the results had taught him well) - would it be the same with a man? He wanted to find out, to know if he could make Solas - always so in control - breathy and desperate and trembling.

He broke away from the kiss to drag his lips slowly down Solas’s neck. He stopped at the collarbone to kiss and lick, while his hands traced lightly across the smooth skin of Solas’s chest. He could hear and feel Solas’s breath catch when he sucked the skin just above his collarbone.

One of Solas’s hands had moved to the back of his head and was toying with his curls, fingers occasionally grazing his scalp.

Cullen brushed a finger over Solas’s nipple, curious, and Solas _gasped._ Encouraged, he pinched gently. Solas’s hips bucked and he gave a soft half-moaned “oh.”

Cullen traced lower with his lips and tongue, while his fingers alternately brushed and pinched. The feel of Solas’s skin soft under his mouth and hands enthralled him, and what had begun with a goal of making Solas crazy was quickly becoming a heady pleasure of its own.

By the time his mouth reached Solas’s nipple - his hands sliding down to the elf’s narrow waist - his kisses were no longer sweet, calculated brushes, but had grown open-mouthed and wet. He licked wanton circles and Solas moaned, and Maker, if that wasn’t the most obscenely arousing sound in the world.

He looked up, mouth still working over Solas’s chest, eyes tracing up to his face.

Solas’s eyes had fallen closed and he looked more relaxed than Cullen had ever seen him - relaxed and awash with pleasure: pink in his cheeks, his lips parted, and no trace of the tense control that always seemed to underlie his features.

He’d spend as much time as Solas would give him trying to make this image happen again and again.

He moved on, pressing open-mouthed kisses down the rest of Solas’s chest and on into the hollow below his ribs. Solas responded to each new movement with soft moans and softer gasps.

Cullen kept moving his kisses lower, and a bit to the side, until he found himself at Solas’s hip. He lingered there, sucking in tender skin, licking and kissing until Solas was writhing under him.

“Cullen,” Solas gasped, voice low and ragged and maddening, “Please.”

He felt his face flush as he looked up again to catch Solas’s eyes, now open and dark with desire. “I have no idea what I’m doing from here,” he confessed. “But I want…”

There was a moment while Solas retook control of his breath, and Cullen was momentarily afraid that Solas would reject him for his inexperience. But then Solas propped himself up on his elbows, the corner of his mouth twisting up into a lascivious grin. “Then I’ll teach you. And any good lesson begins with a demonstration.”

Surely Solas was aware of how his voice - let alone what he had actually just _said_ \- was affecting Cullen? _Maker._

“Come back up here,” Solas said, pressing his fingers into the back of Cullen’s head for emphasis.

Cullen moved back up the bed, trying to do so smoothly but feeling terribly awkward. Solas pulled him into a heated kiss, and all thoughts of awkwardness left his mind.

Solas shifted and rolled them onto their sides, even as he licked into Cullen’s mouth. Then he pulled back, and Cullen heard himself make an embarrassing little whimper at the sudden end of the kiss.

“Now,” Solas said, his fingers playing with the curls just behind Solas’s ear, “we have a couple options for this lesson, and I want you to pick what you think you will be most comfortable with.”

Cullen’s mouth went dry, but Solas seemed to be waiting for a response. “Um. Alright.”

“I will demonstrate whichever option you choose, but I want you to think about what you feel comfortable giving, not what you would like to receive.” Solas paused, and Cullen nodded.

Solas continued. “When you take me in your mouth” - Cullen’s stomach twisted with desire and nerves at the image those words conjured - “you can be in the same position you were in a moment ago. That gives you control, and you can be as marvelously attentive as you just showed me you can be.”

Cullen blushed furiously at the implied compliment.

“The other option. You can lie on your back, and I will kneel over you. You would have less control, but there is also less pressure to… perform.”

Cullen tried to picture what Solas was describing and was surprised at how desperately aroused the thought made him.

“That one,” he managed to say.

“Mm,” Solas said, “Is that so?”

He nodded. “I like…” he swallowed. “I like the thought of you over me.”

Solas made a sound deep in his throat, half hum of approval, half growl of desire. Cullen grabbed the back of Solas’s head to pull him into a desperately hungry kiss. He took Solas’s lip between his teeth and just barely remembered not to bite down too hard. He let go only to run his tongue along the bitten place.

Solas pulled away before Cullen had quite had his fill of the kiss, but he held himself back. He was supposed to be _learning_ now, and Cullen had always been a diligent student.

“Time for that _demonstration_ ,” Solas said, and his tone of voice was all the assurance Cullen needed that this really was what Solas wanted.

And then, so quickly Cullen hardly tracked their movement, Solas’s hands were pulling his shirt off over his head. Solas pushed him onto his back, then paused. His eyes ran up and down Cullen’s torso, and for a moment, Cullen felt horribly exposed. Then he realized that the look in Solas’s eyes was one of admiration and lust, and when was the last time he had felt so _wanted_?

Solas leaned in and kissed along Cullen’s jawline, and by the third kiss, Cullen could feel that Solas’s lips had turned up.

“You’re smiling,” he said, confused.

Solas pulled back just a bit, still grinning. “I have never slept with a human. Stubble is new. I… like it. It scratches a bit though.”

He grinned back. It was weirdly comforting to know that there was something about this that was new for Solas too. 

Solas leaned in again and kissed him on the mouth, brief and sweet, before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to Cullen’s neck. He moved downward, punctuating each kiss with murmured words: “You… need… no lessons…” - Solas was already at his collarbone - “in arousing… a lover…” - here a low hum as he kissed Cullen’s chest - “but it would… hardly be… fair… to leave you… _unexplored_.” 

The last kiss was just above his waistband, somehow both ticklish and fiendishly arousing, and Solas swirled his tongue through the patch of hair that began there. Cullen tipped his head back and clapped a hand over his mouth to dampen the moan he couldn’t stop himself from making. 

Then, suddenly, Solas’s mouth was no longer on him at all, and his hands disappeared from where they’d been resting on his chest. Cullen looked up to see Solas fishing a hair out of his mouth. Oh. That never really stopped being awkward. 

Solas noticed Cullen’s gaze and gave a short laugh. “I had been enjoying the body hair. It would appear there are drawbacks,” he said with a spark of humor in his eyes. 

Cullen laughed despite himself.

"Now, where was I?" Solas asked, raking his eyes down Cullen's body until they settled, along with his fingertips, at Cullen's waistband.

Cullen lifted his hips and helped as Solas pulled his breeches off.

Solas let out a low sound, almost a growl, that made Cullen want to be pinned down and taken. But Solas did not so much as touch him, instead lying on his back.

Solas must have seen the distracted look on his face. "Demonstration, Cullen. We need you up on your knees."

Cullen hurried to obey, though the position felt awkward, a knee to either side of Solas's chest.

"Good. I hope you take good mental notes," Solas said. Cullen wasn't sure if the wicked glimmer in his eye was really there or just a trick of the candlelight.

Then Solas's hands were on his thighs and his tongue was on his cock, licking a slow trail along the underside from base to tip.

“Oh,” Cullen breathed, eyes falling shut.

Solas dug fingernails into one thigh. (And really why did that feel so good?) “Eyes open. You’ll learn more.”

He obeyed. He wasn’t sure what he should be learning from it, until Solas swirled his tongue around the head of his cock without breaking eye contact. The desire in Solas’s eyes, combined with the physical sensation, was almost dizzying, and Cullen had to put one hand on the wall to brace himself. 

Solas’s hands moved up to his hips to pull him forward slightly before Solas wrapped his mouth around him entirely, warm and wet and wonderful, tongue playing along the underside in patterns Cullen couldn’t have described if he’d tried.

Solas’s hands, still on his hips, encouraged him to thrust, so he did. On each in stroke, he could feel the back of Solas’s throat. Surely that couldn’t be comfortable. He pulled back, resisting the continued guidance of Solas’s hands.

“I’m… a little worried I’ll hurt you,” he said.

“You won’t. If it gets to be too much, I’ll push you back.” Here, Solas’s fingers flexed on Cullen’s hips. He got the message, as well as a little shock of pleasure from the intimate touch. Solas continued with a lewd grin, “But I can take quite a lot. I’ve had some practice.”

“Maker, Solas, it suddenly feels like I have a lot to live up to.” 

Solas ran one hand soothingly up to his waist and back down. “It is _never_ a competition, Cullen. I may be bringing past experiences, but I am not bringing the ghosts of past lovers into your bed. I just want you.” He paused, and the wicked glint returned to his eye. “And right now I want you back in my mouth.” 

_Maker._

Solas pulled him forward, and back into the waiting heat of his mouth. For a few moments, Solas's hands on his hips set the pace, leisurely at first, then encouraging him to move more quickly. Then Solas stopped directing his movements entirely, letting Cullen set the pace, hands softening to rest lightly at the hip. 

_Notes_. He was supposed to be making notes. _How_ was he supposed to make notes when Solas was looking at up at him like that and his hands were drifting down to his thighs, and how was he ever going to mimic that thing Solas was doing with his tongue? 

And -

“Maker, you look lovely like this.” Cullen only realized he had spoken out loud after the fact, but Solas… hummed? purred? around him in response, and he was glad he’d said it.

He moved his hand - the one that wasn’t bracing against the wall - to Solas’s face, tracing gently down his cheek and jaw to rest ever-so-lightly against the side of Solas’s throat.

Under his hand, he could feel Solas’s throat work around him on each thrust. It was fascinating, captured his attention completely for a long moment.

How long could Solas take this? He’d promised to make it clear if it was ever too much, but surely it had to be uncomfortable at the least? He would know soon enough, he realized, with a strange twist of fear and excitement.

And then Solas’s hands moved back up to his hips, and just the light brush of them across his skin was practically electrifying, and every thrust brought the fronts of his thighs into contact with Solas’s forearms, and everything in him seemed to be winding pleasantly tight in response. Suddenly the question seemed to be less how long Solas would be able to take him and more how long Cullen would be able to last.

He wanted it to go on forever, or, failing that unrealistic wish, a good bit longer anyway. So he tried to distract himself with everything around him that wasn’t Solas - cool stone under his fingertips, cold air against his back. Wrenching his eyes up from Solas’s face, he found only his shadow moving before him on the wall, stark black shifting over the yellow-tinged candlelit stone. The shadow moved with each thrust, an erotic echo that only drew his focus back to the warm caress of Solas’s mouth, the brush of Solas’s hands and arms. Useless as a distraction.

He closed his eyes, only to feel Solas dig fingertips into his hips. It was obviously meant as a… what, a punishment for closing his eyes? a reminder to keep them open? But the slight pain only pushed Cullen further toward orgasm.

Still, he obediently opened his eyes and looked back at Solas, who was still looking up at him with such hunger and delight, and then Solas hummed approval around him and - 

“Solas, I can’t - I’m going to -” He tried to pull back, but Solas slid his hands around to Cullen’s ass and held him close, and he made a muffled sound that Cullen felt more than heard but surely it was a _growl_ , and Cullen was shattering into a million pieces of pure, panting pleasure, the feeling of Solas swallowing and swallowing around him drawing out his bliss.

Solas’s hands finally moved back around to his hips, and pressed him back minutely. Cullen eased back, legs shaking, and somehow found his way to lying on his side, one arm flung over Solas’s waist.

Solas gave a little cough and cleared his throat.

“Maker. I’m so sorry, I didn’t intend to…” Cullen trailed off.

“Come down my throat?” Solas finished for him, with a grin that somehow made his words sound even filthier. Cullen nodded and Solas continued. “Did I not make it abundantly clear that was exactly what I wanted?”

_Andraste’s knickers_. Solas’s question, his now-raspy voice, had Cullen’s still-softening cock trying its best to stir again.

Solas was looking at him like he expected an answer.

“You did,” Cullen managed to say.

There was a moment of near-silence, both of them still breathing hard, and Cullen needed to break the silence, but everything he wanted to say was… too much. _That was amazing._ or _I want you in my bed every night._ or _If the world wasn’t ending, I would whisk you away for a month._ or _I love you._

But it was too soon to say any of it, especially as hesitant as Solas had been up to this evening.

So instead he put one hand around the back of Solas’s head and pulled him into a kiss that he hoped said everything and nothing. 

Solas kissed back eagerly, turned the whole kiss into something messy and wet and toothy, like he couldn’t get enough of Cullen, even after what they’d just done, and Cullen couldn’t get enough either. He was dimly aware of Solas’s hand tangling in his curls again, even as he moved his own hand from the back of Solas’s head, traced down his side, and stroked fingertips lightly up Solas’s cock from base to tip.

Solas hissed into the kiss, cock jumping under Cullen’s fingers. An awkward nervousness rose up in Cullen for a moment before he squashed it. He took hold of Solas and stroked with his whole hand, trying to mimic the pressure he used when he pleasured himself.

Solas breathed a “yes” into Cullen’s mouth, fingers twisting tight in his hair.

Cullen would have expected an act so similar to self-pleasure to feel familiar, but he found it was altogether different. His palm tingled with a strange pleasure, and on each stroke he relished the transition from smooth shaft to shapely head and back again.

He broke the kiss. “Solas, I want -” he had to stop and swallow against his nervousness. “I want you in my mouth.” He knew he was just parroting Solas’s own words back to him, but it they had been terribly arousing when Solas said them, and he hoped they would have a similar effect from him.

“You still seem quite nervous,” Solas said softly. “It is perfectly alright if you would rather not continue, or if there is something else you would like to try instead.” 

“I do want to. It’s just there’s no way I’ll be as good as you,” he blurted, and regretted the words before they were even out of his mouth.

But somehow he had earned another of those lascivious smiles that Solas somehow made look sexy instead of lewd. “Do you doubt my skill as a teacher?” Solas asked.

_Maker’s breath_. He would be hard again in minutes if Solas kept talking like that and giving him those looks. “When you put it that way...” Cullen conceded.

“What questions do you have?” Solas asked. Their faces were still a mere inch apart, and Solas was toying gently with his hair.

The phrasing subtly pushed Cullen to have at least one question, and he thought for a moment, moving his hand to rest on Solas’s hip so that he could actually think at all. “Do you want me to… Do you want to…” He could feel the blush rising in his face. “I didn’t even know swallowing was an option.” _Of course the phrasing I actually get out of my mouth is the most embarrassing one possible._ He couldn’t keep eye contact. He rolled onto his back, covering his face with one hand. 

“I am accustomed to oral sex as foreplay, not the main event,” he said to the heel of his hand. “To the extent I am accustomed to anything at all. _Maker._ Get me a shovel for this hole of embarrassment I am digging myself into.”

Solas’s fingers played across his wrist, but did not insist he move his hand from his face. “Cullen. I will not judge you for a lack of experience. I imagine that life as a Templar leaves little time for diversions.” He paused, but Cullen had no reply to give. Solas’s lack of judgment wouldn’t stop his words from plaguing him at night.

Solas continued. “Encouraging you to come was not part of the demonstration. That was… impulsive… and you should not feel any pressure to imitate that.”

Cullen finally moved his hand down from his face and opened his eyes to find Solas leaning over him at a little distance.

“I think I want to,” Cullen said. “That was… I want…” He reached a hand up to touch Solas’s face. “I want to make you fall apart like I did.”

Solas rewarded that sentiment with a soft sound of want and a lingering kiss, gentle but open-mouthed.

“You can change your mind about that at any point,” Solas said when he broke the kiss.

Cullen nodded and ran one hand down Solas’s torso to stroke his cock teasingly. He _wanted..._ wanted Solas over him, wanted to know what he tasted like, wanted to drive Solas wild with pleasure.

“Do you have other questions?” Solas asked. Maybe that was part of the teaching thing.

Cullen shook his head. “I just… _I want you._ Just - tell me if I get something wrong?”

“I’ll let you know what I like or dislike,” Solas said, and Cullen distantly registered that he’d rephrased it to make it sound like he couldn’t get something “wrong.”

Solas continued, “If you need space to breathe or need to stop at any time, I want you to let me know. You can push my hips like I showed you, or you can tap me twice, and everything will stop for as long as you need. Understood?”

Cullen nodded.

Solas leaned in for another kiss, brief and tender, tongue just flicking Cullen’s lip, and then his mouth was gone and he was moving to kneel over Cullen. He could feel Solas’s thighs against the sides of his chest, but his field of vision was dominated by Solas’s cock, and for what felt like the thousandth time tonight, his stomach was twisting with nerves and desire both. What had Solas done when he had first knelt over him? Teased him with his tongue? That seemed right. 

He moved his head forward tentatively, licked once along the underside, tasted nothing but clean skin until he reached the tip and tasted a strange sort of saltiness there - precum, he supposed. It was not pleasant exactly, but neither was it altogether unpleasant. He could grow to find it desirable.

He remembered how good it had felt when Solas had swirled his tongue around his head, and so he mimicked that movement now and was rewarded with a soft “mm” from Solas. 

Perhaps he should draw it out, but it already seemed they had been building up to this for an eternity. He took Solas into his mouth, tried to keep his tongue moving along the underside, but Solas was larger than he would have expected for an elf, and he was momentarily distracted by how full his mouth was. 

And then Solas began to move, short slow thrusts, not nearly his full length, seemingly trying to get Cullen used to the feeling of it first. It made him surprisingly angry - he did not need to be coddled. He lifted his head on the next in-stroke, taking Solas in deeper, all the way to the back of his mouth, into his throat. It was a strange sensation, a bit uncomfortable, but somehow arousing too.

“So eager?” Solas asked him, and Cullen could hear the smirk, but he had to look up at that, had to see the amusement and approval on Solas’s face, not just hear it in his voice.

Solas hadn’t stopped moving, but he did when Cullen met his eyes. Cullen could feel a little shudder go through Solas at that moment, felt it in his hands where they rested on Solas’s thighs, felt it in his chest where Solas’s legs pressed against him, felt it in his _mouth._

He registered that his eye contact was what had earned him that marvelous response, and then lost focus altogether for a moment as Solas brushed a stray curl away from where it had fallen in front of Cullen’s eyes. 

Solas’s hand lingered gently at Cullen’s temple as he began to move again, longer strokes that had him pressing into Cullen’s throat, though still agonizingly slow and gentle. He made a conscious choice to leave the pace to Solas and focus on trying to mimic the way Solas had moved his tongue earlier. He felt horribly self-conscious about it - he had no skill in this, no way to know - until Solas made a low “mm” of appreciation. But then, what exactly had gotten that response? And what if Solas was merely being polite?

“Cullen. Look at me,” Solas said, his voice mostly even but still rough from earlier.

He realized only then that his gaze had fallen away from Solas at some point as he’d been focused on what to do with his tongue. He looked up to make eye contact again, and Maker if he didn’t look like something out of a lust-fueled dream towering over him like that, all narrow waist and broad chest, all pale skin and freckles.

He swallowed - reflex born of want and a bit of intimidation - and Solas’s eyes rolled slightly with pleasure, and wasn’t that exactly what Cullen wanted out of this? He swallowed again, tried to time it to when Solas’s thrust brought him into his throat, noticed the difficulty of swallowing around the obstacle of Solas’s cock, but it was worth it for the little moan of pleasure it earned him.

“You are focusing entirely on my pleasure, are you not?” Solas asked.

Cullen nodded without breaking eye contact.

Solas growled low in his throat, and Cullen felt his own cock stir in response.

“That is generous of you,” Solas said, even as he continued to thrust into Cullen’s mouth. “But I want you - mm - to learn to _enjoy_ this. For now, stop thinking about what will give me pleasure. Run your tongue over me. Think about what it feels like. Think about all the places you can feel me. Think about - _fenedhis_ \- every exquisite motion. What gives you pleasure in this?”

Cullen let his focus shift, let himself feel the shape and weight of Solas on his tongue, felt the smoothness of Solas’s skin against the tip of his tongue as he traced mindless patterns. Distantly, he realized that he was growing hard again himself. He noticed - really noticed - the slick slide of Solas’s cock between his lips, in and out, in and out, and every nerve ending in his still-kiss-swollen lips was singing and _Maker,_ who knew that could feel so good?

Solas began to pick up the pace and Cullen moaned in response, felt his mouth vibrate against Solas’s cock, and that registered as yet another unexpected pleasure. The press of each thrust against the back of his throat was uncomfortable now, but somehow arousing.

He didn’t even realize he’d closed his eyes until Solas’s thumb brushed his eyelid. “Eyes on me, Cullen. I want to see you.”

Cullen’s heart skipped a beat at the sheer intimacy of that desire, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe, between the meeting of their eyes and Solas pressing into his throat and the amount of saliva that he suddenly realized had accumulated in his mouth and he wanted Solas in him but he needed to breathe - and then Solas was pulling back, all the way out of him and not returning.

Solas stroked a hand down his face, a slow brush of fingers from temple to jaw. “You are doing so well. I should have known you’d be a quick study. How are you feeling?”

Cullen couldn’t find words to respond, but he could feel his face grow warm (warmer, anyway) at the compliment. There was a moment, him catching his breath, their eyes still locked.

Solas’s fingers rested lightly against his cheek. “Overwhelmed?”

Cullen nodded.

"Still enjoying it though?"

Cullen nodded harder. "Yes," he managed.

"You want more," Solas said, and it was barely a question.

_"Yes,"_ Cullen answered, and he could hear the desperation in his voice despite how ragged it sounded.

"You are so good," Solas breathed. “Do you still want me to spend in you like this?”

“ _Maker_ , yes,” he replied, and his stomach was twisting, desire and anxiousness tied together in knots, and he hoped desperately that only the desire showed in his eyes, still locked as they were on Solas’s.

“If you change your mind, how are you going to tell me?” Solas asked, and he sounded almost unbearably teacherly. 

“Push you or tap you twice,” Cullen said.

“Good,” Solas said simply, and this time when he touched Cullen's face, it was to press his thumb into his mouth before replacing it with his still-wet cock.

Cullen moaned around it, at the suddenness, the overwhelm, the strange pleasure of it. His eyes fluttered shut for just a moment before he remembered to keep them open, to keep the eye contact Solas seemed to want so desperately.

Solas was thrusting in fully now, Cullen’s nose pressed to the wispy, barely-there hair around the base of Solas’s cock. It was too much and just enough, every out-stroke a relief and a deprivation. Cullen forgot to tease with his tongue, forgot to mind the pleasure of Solas moving against his lips, just tried to keep breathing. He was dimly aware that he’d dug his fingers into Solas’s thighs, likewise dimly aware that he was desperately hard again.

He couldn’t really keep eye contact any longer, not when Solas pressed so far in that all he saw looking up was the tight muscle of his abdomen, but he caught Solas’s eyes again each time he drew away, and the desire there was intoxicating.

He heard Solas’s breathing change, grow ragged, felt tension rising. And then there was a strange pulsing sensation under his lips, Solas’s skin almost rippling with it, and he couldn’t breathe, his throat was so full. He swallowed frantically, trying to keep up. Just when he thought he could take no more, Solas eased back slowly.

For what felt like several minutes, all he could do was breathe and try to swallow away the coated feeling in his throat and watch as Solas - also breathless - rearranged himself to lie beside him.

Solas trailed fingers across Cullen’s chest, their eyes locked. “How are you doing?” Solas asked, his breath still slightly uneven.

Cullen tried to find words and had none, so he put one hand on the back of Solas’s head and dragged him into a kiss. He was sloppy and uncoordinated with it, and Solas was nearly as clumsy, but it was so, so good. He was not ready to be done, to let Solas climb down the ladder and back into whatever this would be tomorrow; he needed Solas’s touch, needed their hands on each other, needed lips and tongues, needed to wrap himself around Solas and know he was there with him, really there.

Solas’s hand on his chest started drifting, then, lower, down to his stomach and then lower yet, and Cullen heard himself give a shuddering moan when Solas took his length in hand. He moaned again, in complaint, when Solas pulled back from the kiss, but it was only to say: “It would seem at least part of you enjoyed sucking me down.”

Cullen opened his eyes. _“Maker,_ yes.”

Solas _hummed_. “You are so good to me,” he said, voice low and almost breathless still.

Then Solas’s hand on him began to move, firm slow strokes that felt like delicious relief and delirious desire all wrapped up together. Solas’s eyes were still locked on his, his expression somehow both intense and soft with affection and satiation.

He might have pulled Solas in for another kiss, but their locked eyes were far more intimate than any meeting of the lips. He let his fingers trail down the back of Solas’s neck and back up again, heard Solas take a shuddering breath that Cullen _felt_ in the broken rhythm of Solas’s hand on his cock. And then Solas found a rhythm again, faster now but just as firm and so very good. After all the wild arousal that had overwhelmed him with Solas in his mouth, this was too much, the perfect answer to the question of his need. Pleasure sparked in his cock, kindled into flame low in his belly, burned itself out in waves of hot pleasure, pulsing warm spend across his stomach. A matching fire smoldered in Solas’s eyes and surely it was only orgasmic delirium, but Cullen could have sworn the look he saw there was love.

He kissed him then, panting his pleasure into Solas’s mouth. All too soon, Solas pulled back from the kiss, moving down the bed. Why was he…? Then Solas leaned over him and _licked up some of his spend_ , tongue tickling across his stomach. Solas’s eyes were locked on his, the affection from earlier replaced with playfulness and desire. It struck him suddenly that Solas was hiding the strength of his feelings in this obscenely arousing act, knowing how distracting it would be to Cullen. Heat rose in his belly again, but not the pleasant kind. He sat up halfway on his elbows.

“Solas, stop.” He hadn’t meant it to sound that much like a command, or maybe he had.

Solas stopped. He looked concerned now, but could Cullen trust that? Could he trust anything that had just happened? “What’s wrong?” Solas asked. 

“Don’t lie to me,” Cullen said, too loudly.

Solas’s expression was carefully blank. His hand stroked along Cullen’s hip. “I said nothing. What do you mean?”

Cullen was suddenly at a loss. What could he say? _You lied to me with your eyes?_ Ridiculous. “The way you looked at me earlier… you… and then you just - hid it.” Splendid. He sounded like a fool. Now he was angry _and_ embarrassed. 

“Cullen,” Solas began, and his voice was soft, placating.

Cullen interrupted him. “Whatever you’re about to say had better be the truth.”

Solas held eye contact for a long moment, and the schooled blank expression fell away, but Cullen couldn’t have put a word to the look that followed it. “It has been a long, long time,” Solas said quietly. “I did not hope to fall in love. I cannot stay; I cannot give you a future. I thought it might be easier for both of us if I could keep my feelings within my control. I did not mean to do you harm. Indeed, I was trying to protect you. I apologize. I did not consider that I might hurt you most by keeping the truth from you.”

Cullen’s anger ebbed and flickered out as Solas spoke. His sincerity was plain in his voice and his eyes, and in his willingness to apologize. “You were clear earlier,” Cullen replied, “about how long you mean to stay. I will regret your leaving in any case, but I would rather regret having all of you and losing you than regret what we didn’t say or didn’t do when had each other.” 

Solas moved then, coming back up to lay beside Cullen. He placed a hand on Cullen’s face and turned him so that they were once again gazing into each others’ eyes. Cullen’s stomach lurched.

“Ar lath ma, Cullen. I love you,” Solas said, and Cullen felt _unmoored_ by the sudden honesty and vulnerability of Solas’s confession. It felt like a sudden change, and yet had this not been the undercurrent of everything that had happened tonight?

He’d nearly said it earlier, and yet he was gripped with a sudden fear and the realization that he had never said this to anyone.

He kissed Solas, half as a response and half to stall, to buy a moment to compose himself.

By the time he pulled back, he’d shoved the fear down. “I love you too,” he said, and his voice broke on it, but at least he’d said it.

Solas pulled him into yet another kiss in reply, unbearably soft and slow. Cullen savored every sweet sensation and tried to push back the question of whether he was ever going to be able to watch Solas walk away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't believe this is the end of the fic, but it's going to be another long wait between chapters. I am participating in National Novel Writing Month, and my project for the month is an upcoming Solas/Dorian longfic. My plan is to get a lot of words churned out for Solrian, then return to writing Solas/Cullen in December. Next update will likely arrive mid-December.


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